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I take another shuddering breath. “Good to meet you, David.” I extend my hand and he shakes it. I get the feeling Beth might need to explain what just happened to him later.
“So, Blake, you’ve come in with chest pains?” When I nod, he nods back. “Where is the pain?” I point to the spot on my sternum where it hurts. “And is it only in that spot, or does it spread out from there?”
“Just here. It’s pretty bad.”
He nods again and makes a humming sound. “When did it start?”
“Half an hour ago.” I suck in another breath. “Was at work.” I’m not sure why I feel like that’s important, but it’s already out of my mouth, so I let it go and try to relax.
“Has it been constant this whole time, or has it gotten worse or better?”
Didn’t he hear the part where I’m in pain? Why isn’t he writing any of this down? Am I going to have to say this all again? “Pretty constant.”
That doesn’t seem to concern him. “On a scale of one to ten, with one being not bad at all and ten being terrible, how bad is your pain?”
What the fuck? I’ve had enough. I’m being poked and questioned and no one seems to care that someone is crushing my chest from the inside out and it fucking hurts! And it would be great if someone would tell me I’m not dying. I force as much air into my lungs as I can. “It fucking hurts like someone punched me in the goddamned sternum!”
“Blake McCarthy, control your temper!” The Irish brogue I know so well stops my tirade. The curtain sweeps aside, and my stepmother walks into the bay, thunder in her bright blue eyes. “I know you’re scared and hurting. Don’t take it out on Doctor…” She glances at his nametag. “Peterson.” She extends her hand to him. “Mia Dennehy. I’m a CNP with the Goldstone group, and Blake’s stepmum.” She shakes his hand and turns her attention to me. “And Blake’ll behave like a model patient, won’t you?”
Based on his disdainful expression, Doctor Peterson wishes he was anywhere but here. Me too, Doc. Me too. “Um, right. So, Blake, does anything make it better, or worse?” I shake my head. “Have you taken anything for the pain?” I want to ask him when he thinks I’ve had time to do that, but one glance at Mia, and I shake my head and say nothing. “I can see you’re having shortness of breath and you’re sweating. How about weakness? Fatigue?”
“Not really.”
“Are you feeling nauseous or dizzy?”
“No.”
“Any past episodes like this? Or diagnosed heart attacks?” I shake my head and look at Mia, willing her to notice how well I’m behaving. “How about family history?”
I nod. “Mom died at fifty. Massive heart attack.”
Doctor Peterson hums again. “Are you being treated for any current illnesses, or have you had any illnesses recently?” I shake my head again. Iknowthey need to ask these questions, but a little less talking and a lot more pain relief would be welcome.
Like she’s reading my mind, Mia takes over. “Rest, love. I’ll answer what I can, and you fill in what I don’t know. Tadhg’s on his way. If he’s not around already, he’ll be here soon.” I close my eyes and nod, so incredibly grateful she’s here.
Mia and Doctor Peterson go into medical-speak, and I tune them out. She’ll let me know what’s going on or if something needs my input. Beth puts an IV cannula in the back of my hand and pats my arm. “This is just in case we need to give you fluids. Nothing to worry about. You’re doing great. Just try to relax.”
I concentrate on breathing and must doze off, because I wake to the rapid thud and squeak of rubber soles on linoleum, and the flash of light as the privacy curtain is flung aside. I squint at the figures silhouetted in the doorway and recognize my brother and Quinn.
I throw a hand over my eyes. “You can turn on the lights.” I wince as the overheads in the bay come on, lowering my hand only after my eyes adjust. Glancing around, I’m relieved to find my family are the only ones in the small room with me. Tadhg’s expressive face is drawn with worry, though Mia quickly catches them up on the situation. In those few moments, I can tell my breathing has improved, and my chest doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s a good sign. I think.
Mia stands at the head of my bed and brushes the hair from my forehead like I’m a small boy. I fight the tears that come out of nowhere. She smiles, and we both ignore my spike of emotion. ‘How are you feeling, love?’ She signs so Tadhg will know what she’s asking.
‘Better. I can breathe, and my chest doesn’t hurt. That’s good. Right?’ Tadhg comes around the other side of the bed and sprawls over me, hugging me tightly before he lets go and stands up.
‘You’re okay? Mom says you didn’t have a heart attack.’ He and Quinn move so we all can see each other’s hands.
Tadhg stares intently at me, waiting for my corroboration, but that’s news to me. I turn to Mia, hope and fear battling for top spot. ‘Is that true? I didn’t have a heart attack?’
‘No. They’re pretty sure it was stress related but not a heart attack.’ She gives me a stern mom-glare. ‘This time. But you need to make some changes, Blake. If you keep going like you have been, it most likely will cause an actual heart attack next time. You have a family history. You can’t be playing around with this.’
I can feel Tadhg’s anxiety pouring off him in waves. His signing is fast and clipped, and his expression is fierce. ‘I’ve told you that at least a million times! You need to slow down and work less. You need hobbies and interests outside of publishing.’ He glares at me, but only because he’s worried and loves me.
‘I know. I promise I’ll do better.’ The way his gaze bores into mine says he doesn’t believe me. ‘I swear!’
Quinn squeezes his shoulder, and Tadhg relaxes against him. The prickling starts behind my eyes and I blink it away. Jesus, I really must be tired if my emotions are so close to spilling everywhere. It’s ridiculous to be upset. I’m thrilled Tadhg and Quinn have each other. Though I suppose right now I’m more than a little envious. It’d be nice to have someone like that here for me. I force down the stab of jealousy. My choice to be single, my consequences. ‘Hey, Quinn.’
‘Hey, Blake. How are you feeling?’
